The gala moved into the champagne lounge, a more intimate space with mirrored walls reflecting soft golden light. Mau drifted between small groups of designers, patrons, and critics. Lira whispered playful commentary at every turn.
"Sheena is fuming," Lira said under her breath, smirking. "Do you feel that? That's raw, social envy. Delicious."
Mau suppressed a smile, focusing instead on the conversations. Everyone who approached was captivated by the sophistication and originality of her designs. Not a single person suspected the shy, soft-spoken designer standing in the corner was the same genius behind the work.
Sheena finally approached, mask perfectly in place, lips curved in a polite smile. "Mau," she said, using the name she'd overheard whispered among the elites, "I hear your work is… remarkable."
Mau tilted her head, eyes twinkling faintly. "Thank you. I strive for… subtle innovation."
Sheena's smile stiffened. Her eyes searched Mau's features, trying to detect something familiar, but she found nothing concrete. Each compliment from her felt like a challenge, each glance a duel. Mau's calm, precise demeanor quietly dismantled Sheena's composure.
Lira whispered, almost gleeful, "Face-slap #2. Subtle, but effective."
Aida, ever vigilant, stood just behind Mau, ready to intervene if Sheena got aggressive. But Mau didn't need protection here—the subtle power of her genius, her confidence, and her ability to remain hidden made her untouchable in this moment.
Across the room, Tim followed the exchange, amused and impressed by Mau's poise. He had been observing for hours, but seeing her navigate the social minefield with quiet authority and a hint of playfulness intrigued him more than he expected.
"You handle elites well," he said softly when she passed by later, eyes locking for a brief, teasing second.
Mau smirked. "Elites handle me well. Mostly."